We get another scene in which SamVid get lines (very, very slow lines) and Ruthie ignores them to do math homework without a pencil and paper. I begin to contemplate the possibility that there is a higher being (I mean, higher than Sars) who hates me very, very much. ["There is no being higher than Sars, dude." -- Wing Chun]
That possibility is confirmed when Annie -- purring after getting banged in the basement -- strolls into the kitchen, moments before Lucy comes in -- smiling after getting tickled in the treehouse. I guess they recognize each other's afterglow, and they share a mother-daughter moment, even going so far as to clink their plates of chocolate cake together, rather pleased with themselves for fucking their husbands, which is what they're required to do to keep their husbands from considering leaving them for younger, prettier women. Good god. How any viewer could eat chocolate cake after watching these two giggling and smiling like this is beyond me.
"My name is Vic, and I am an alcoholic." Vic, wait. Let me get my coat. After this show, I'll be joining you. Commercials.
Martin's staring out at the school baseball field, which is perhaps the only baseball field in the world that doesn't turn its lights out at night when nobody is playing. And instead of talking to him, the Marine (would you fucking TELL US HIS NAME?) is in the minivan talking to RevCam, saying that there's a lot of pressure on this conversation, since each talk he has with his son could be his last. God bless you, sir. Now get over yourself, and go talk to your damn son already, or you're going to have listen to a halting lecture from RevCam about not living our lives based on "what if" but on "what is" because we'll live in a constant state of fear, which is interesting, since I think the Bush administration is counting on a constant state of fear for the American people to get himself re-elected, but let's not go there, shall we, and the lecture continues about how Martin and the Marine are both safe right now and they have time to talk and blah blah blah. It goes ON and ON. "You'll get through this," says RevCam, speaking to all of us. I have my doubts.
Chandler strolls up on the porch, where he finds a smiling Betsy, who's rather pretty when she's not angrily spewing Brenda Hampton's propaganda, and who makes a joke that all his old girlfriends have left for the evening. He says he forgot his coat, and she says she knows and was hoping he'd come back for it. Then she tells him that Roxanne "isn't worth it," and that Paris has too many issues and baggage, and too much, well, Vic. "You're far too rich and handsome and smart to be depressed about anything," Betsy concludes. Chandler, for some reason, seems charmed by this. Despite her cuteness, Betsy's exhibiting all the traits that would make any sensible guy run screaming, so Chandler sits down next to her, and she suggests that he come visit her in New York. "My crowd could use some preaching," she says, and I hope that's not a euphemism or anything. She asks if he's feeling better, and he says he is, and then she tells him to tell her all about himself.